Unless a greater power than love commanded,
Commands my life, mine honour.

_Cel_. But a little.

_Dem_. Prethee farewel, and be not doubtfull of me.

_Cel_. I would not have ye hurt: and ye are so ventrous--
But good sweet Prince preserve your self, fight nobly,
But do not thrust this body, 'tis not yours now,
'Tis mine, 'tis only mine: do not seek wounds, Sir,
For every drop of blood you bleed--

_Dem_. I will _Celia_,
I will be carefull.

_Cel_. My heart, that loves ye dearly.

_Dem_. Prethee no more, we must part: [_Drums a March._
Hark, they march now.

_Cel_. Pox on these bawling Drums: I am sure you'l kiss me,
But one kiss? what a parting's this?

_Dem_. Here take me,
And do what thou wilt with me, smother me;
But still remember, if your fooling with me,
Make me forget the trust--

_Cel_. I have done: farewel Sir,